I Think It Came From The Drawing Room
by TheCountessAndTheEnglishLord
Summary: Series 4, Episode 3. The night after Michael Gregson is invited to Downton and Nellie Melba sings, Cora hears creaking from the drawing room, so wakes Robert. Investigation follows with surprising and amusing consquences. AU oneshot.


Crr-eee-ak. _Crr-eee-ak. Crr-eee-ak._

Pulling herself onto her front, Cora looks at her husband; her eyes gentle at the sight of him absorbed in sleep. He lies facing her, her face innocent and boyish, his arms wrapped around himself. The soft, naked skin of his torso makes her smile, as she thinks back to the night before, when they undressed each other and made love passionately under the covers, their movements contrived as to not wake anyone. She watches as he breathes deeply, unaware of his wife watching him, wide-eyed.

"Robert," she whispers, gently pushing him. He doesn't wake, instead he sighs softly and turns over, the bedclothes wrapping intimately around him as he moves. A groan forms in the back of her throat, and she reaches out, rocking him slowly.

"Hmm?"

" _Robert!_ "

"Oh!" This time he speaks louder, moving quickly back to face her. At the sight of her worried face he blanches. "Whatever is the matter, my darling?"

"I heard a noise."

"Oh..." He flumps onto his back and sighs, passing a hand over his eyes. This is not the first time he has been mistaken for a knight in shining armour. Many of his teenage years were spent yawning and falling asleep in the middle of Ancient Language class, due to spending half the night chasing after imaginary spiders and ghosts; much to the amusement of his older sister who visited frequently to berate and tease him. Fortunately for the women in his life, he is often mistaken for a gallant figurehead, ready to track down any beastie scuttling across the windowsill at the midnight hour. Unfortunately for him, he is far too shy and loyal to admit to the terror that fills him whenever he sees a fly.

"Robert, please..."

He lets his arm flop onto the bed and looks at his wife. Her pale complexion is paler than usual, unless it is a trick of the moonlight. Her blue eyes are wide in the gloom and he sees her hands on the coverlet shaking. She really is scared.

"What sort of a –"

 _Crr-eee-ak. Crr-eee-ak. Crrr-eeee-akk. Crrrr-eeeeee-akkkk._

They lock eyes and he is frightened now. Sitting up carefully, he fumbles around by his bedside and manages to turn on the light. The bright streams make Cora wince as he stands, walks across to the chair and pulls on his clothes, dragging on his dressing gown unwillingly. "Robert?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"I'm coming with you. I think – I think it came from the drawing room."

He catches her eye and she sees the worry, the fear of being ridiculed. Last night, it was none other than the anniversary of their engagement and they had hosted a great number of guests, many of whom are esteemed patrons and heiresses. It would be terrible if they are to be portrayed in the social sphere as a house of ridicule and scandal. She knows this is the last thing Robert needs.

"Careful." He whispers this to her as they step outside the door, carefully shutting it behind them. Her dressing gown brushes her bare arms as she silently slips it over her shoulders. The cold silk makes her gasp out loud and he gently squeezes her arm, overly-cautious. She wears nothing under the long bed jacket as it skims her ankles, buttoning at the side, therefore not revealing so much as a pinprick of naked skin. They edge along the corridor, squealing at the smallest creak of floorboard and whispering frantically to each other in their desperation to keep quiet. As they near the drawing room the creaking grows louder. Touching her arm, Robert whispers to his to "stay where you are" and steps forward, pressing his ear to the door. Turning, he faces her again. His complexion is ghostly white and he looks ready to collapse. "Cora."

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" She hurries to him, grasping his sleeve.

"There's – there's – two people in there. And they're..." He raises his eyebrows and bobs his head curiously on his neck. She tilts her head on one side and her brow wrinkles, amused yet puzzled.

"Robert, what on earth?"

"They're..." Again, the head movement.

"Please do enlighten me, dear husband."

" _Having sexual relations!_ " His words are tiny and squeaky, making her giggle.

"Who is it?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, we cannot have that. I'm going in."

"Cora, wait –"

But she strides to the door, flings it back and steps inside, flicking on the lights. That's when she stops in her tracks, horrified and terribly embarrassed.

Lying, stark naked on the sofa facing the door, are her middle daughter and Michael Gregson. Indeed, when he invited him, she had not envisaged she would be seeing him artfully positioned between the substantial legs of Edith Crawley, second daughter to the Earl of Grantham, doing something that she had most certainly practised with her husband many a time. At the sight of her mother, Edith gasps and nudges the naked man on top of her. He glances round and immediately falls off the settee in surprise, revealing Edith's naked frame to her mother. This is by no means disturbing to Cora, but at that moment, Robert decides to step inside. He gasps himself, as Michael tries to pull his trousers on but fails to do the buttons up, promptly dropping them again in his nervousness.

"Edith? What on earth are you doing?" Robert's tone is not kind, but Cora has to bite the insides of her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing.

"I think it's quite obvious, Robert. Carry on, you two. Robert - out. Come on. Out." Turning, she pushes her husband, who is beginning to protest, out of the door, letting it click silently shut behind her.

"Cora, why did you do that? Now we are ever getting back to sleep. They're going to do as you said."

As he speaks these words, a creak emanates from deep within the room and Cora giggles.

"Cora, this is not at all funny."

"Robert, we should be worried that we are still doing what they are, as we have less cause to do so. Let them."

"What are you saying? Do you not enjoy it?" His face is incredulous.

"Wha – Robert? How can you say that? Of course I do!"

" _We have less cause to do so_?"

"Oh, Robert, you know what I mean. You are fifty six."

"Am I?"

And, for the first time this evening, he bursts out laughing, abandoning all attempts to keep quiet, and kisses her passionately, knocking all breath from her body.


End file.
